


the world is my bone-cave, i shall not want

by michirus



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Sleep Deprivation, Unhealthy Relationships, honestly those are warnings in of themselves lol, not dark enough to be considered dead dove but certainly very dark, shuichi is gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27345211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michirus/pseuds/michirus
Summary: The door opens. There he is. Standing in the doorway, he looks worse than Shuichi, bandages decorating his arm, a sullen, wide-eyed look on his face. He moves slowly, a small limp in his step. Shuichi delights in how ruined he looks. Anticipates all that’s coming next.A smile sneaks up on Shuichi’s face. There’s nothing to lose anymore. After all, he’s free to do anything he wants, free from everything that killed him before. For the rest of his life, free.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	the world is my bone-cave, i shall not want

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so i never actually watched to the point of the end of ndrv3, never actually saw them mention anything pre-game or the fact it was a tv show. i've only seen mentions of it online and i fell in love (lol), so if there's any information that contradicts v3 canon, please tell me. one thing to note here is that they all go to the same school and wear pretty plain japanese school summer uniforms. if you look it up, they all vary very slightly, but the specific one i have in mind is the one shinji ikari wears, so look him up actually.
> 
> thanks, please enjoy.

Shuichi drums his fingers on the desk, mindlessly twirls a lock of his hair with his other hand. Quickly brings them down, one, two, three, four, five, lift them, hear the soft thumps that it makes. In a steady rhythm, repeat, repeat, repeat. 

His mind has been buzzing with quiet anticipation all morning, hands moving, leg bouncing, and they just wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t. Multiple attempts proved futile; as soon as he stopped thinking about it, it started again, a painful cycle. He’d kept his face straight, eyes lidded and disinterested and staring into the distance, but it couldn’t have been any farther from the truth. 

Dark bags rested under his eyes, evidence of the unrest he felt the night before. He hadn’t slept a wink for days and anyone who looked at him could tell. But none of that mattered, not right now. 

His eyes constantly flit to the door and back. _He’s usually here at this time, isn’t he?_ A quick check of his phone confirms it: _yes, he is. He was supposed to be here about 2 minutes ago._

Minutes pass agonizingly. His classmates’ chatter grows in volume, harsh to his ears, harsher to his brain. They turn into deafening static. Each second feels like something squeezing his brain, squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter, ‘til it seeps liquid and mushy brain matter through his ears, but he couldn’t leave. Not until he saw him. 

The door opens. There he is. He looks worse than Shuichi, bandages decorating his arm, a sullen, wide-eyed look on his face. He moves slowly, a small limp in his step. Shuichi delights in how ruined he looks. Anticipates all that’s coming next.

A smile sneaks up on Shuichi’s face. There’s nothing to lose anymore. After all, he’s free to do anything he wants, from everything that killed him before. For the rest of his life, free.

The word still brings shivers, the good kind of shivers, when he thinks of it. Must not have gotten used to it, then. Shuichi didn’t know if he ever wanted to get used to it. Freedom. Freedom. 

Yes, this is freedom in its finest, the destruction of the cage, the start of sunlight, shining bright and hopeful. Everything Shuichi never knew he thirsted for. And it’s all thanks to _him_.

Abruptly, Shuichi stands. The scraping sound of his chair stings Shuichi’s brain and suddenly everyone is looking at him, but the rush Shuichi feels from seeing him stops him from caring. He spots Shuichi and tries to make a pathetic escape, but before he can even get far, his hand is already holding his wrist. Tight, tighter, until he's pushing hard on the bone of his wrist. Shuichi digs his nails into his wrist.

None of that now. 

“Ouma-kun. Hi.” Keeps his voice sweet as honey, because it unnerves Ouma more than anything. 

Ouma’s the one that did this to Shuichi. There’s no going back now.

 _Thank you, Ouma-kun, for everything you've done so far. I've never felt more indebted in my life_.

“Meet me after class, on the rooftop, ok?”

His face feels hot. He wonders what expression he must have right now, for Ouma to look so unsettled.

Ouma tries to pull his arm back, to which Shuichi only tightens his grip, gouges deeper into his wrist. His expression twists into something less scared and more uncomfortable, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. It must bother the cuts under his bandages. He stammers. “I, ah, uh, I don’t really have time today-”

“Ouma-kun.” Shuichi stares into his eyes, because Ouma doesn’t like eye contact. Sure enough, he looks away. Shuichi drinks in the sight. “Ouma-kun, you don’t do anything after school.”

_Don’t run away from this. Don’t run away from me._

The teacher enters the classroom.

“Straight after class, okay?”

The whole class is silent, staring at the two. It’s a definite change from how Shuichi usually acts, and it feels strange to have garnered their attention, but they won’t do anything about it. It’s nothing to be worried about, not if it’s over someone like loudmouth Ouma. He looks around desperately, asking for help they both know will never come.

Shuichi leans in. Ouma looks too scared to move. Into his ear, he whispers, “you’re so cute, Ouma-kun. Really. Well, see you.”

The teacher observes the two, but he won’t be doing anything about it either. It’s a good show to them all. And if it’s not, it’s something well-deserved. He asks the whole class to settle down and take their seats. Shuichi drops Ouma’s arm, who scurries back to his seat, as if he was fleeing from some great danger. 

Shuichi returns to his own desk, satisfied with how things played out. He has so much to tell Ouma.

**Author's Note:**

> i might post more and turn this into a series (so maybe this will make sense lol), so please comment if you'd like to see something like that. also follow me on twitter @pkbrainshock_


End file.
